


What Happens in the Tent...

by notvelma



Category: Original Work
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... stays in the tent, right?</p>
<p>
  <i>"Stop thinking," said Tommy. "Anything that happens now is between you and me. You and me and nobody else. We ain't even gotta talk about this once we leave this tent."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in the Tent...

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth of July Weekend, 2002. For reference, Tommy is 23, Hank just turned 20. Companion to Whiskey-Bent series, though it takes place before all of that. 
> 
> Dedicated to Comfy, who gave me the idea :-)

"Are you sure we have everything?" asked Hank worriedly. "Bug spray? Extra fuel for the lantern? Blankets?" The pile of things in the bed of the truck seemed awfully small and it gave Hank the terrible feeling that something was missing. He was sure that they'd forgotten something important. 

His older brother Tommy clapped him on the back with one big hand and opened up the passenger door of the truck with the other. "It's camping, Hank. You gotta relax and just let things be the way they are. The point of this is trip is for you to calm the fuck down and forget about everything else. Be one with nature and all that shit." He shrugged. 

Hank was pretty sure that Tommy's reasons for this camping trip had nothing to do with being one with nature and more to do with the 30-rack of Budweiser in the cooler and the unopened bottle of bourbon he'd tucked into his bag. Tommy was probably going to start drinking as soon as they got there, maybe even before they even started to set up the tent. 

Climbing into the passenger seat of the truck, Hank buckled up his seatbelt and leaned back against the head rest. Truth was that he'd been happy that Tommy had asked him to come on this camping trip. He'd been home from college since May and had done nothing but hang around the house and watch television and try not to realize how big Tommy had gotten while Hank had been away. 

Tommy had always been tall. He'd topped out at six and a half feet tall by the time he was twenty, but something else had happened to him in the nine months Hank had been away at school. He'd grown hard and strong and muscular, and now he was much more intimidating than he'd ever been.

Never before had Hank been so aware of his brother, but being at home was different now. Hank could be in the kitchen having a glass of water and his back would be to the door, but he could tell right away when Tommy entered. It was different from Nick, from Jen, from anybody else. It was just something entirely new; it was the way Tommy could stand with his arms crossed over his massive chest and not say anything but still allow to Hank feel that look all the way down to his toes. 

Sighing, Hank switched on the radio, which was already tuned to Tommy's favorite station. It was halfway through an Alan Jackson song, and Tommy promptly started singing along, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. 

It was nice to see his brother enjoying himself. It felt as though the further from home they got, the more Tommy seemed to relax into himself. Hank could feel the same sort of release as the drive continued. He lost some of that tension that he'd been hanging on to, worries about school and what he was going to do next with his life – if Police Academy was really the best option for him or not, if he needed a better career plan, if it had been a good idea not to continue football, if he was ever going to find a guy to spend his life with... 

He relaxed against the seat and ignored the rest of the worries; he didn't have time for those now. Like Tommy had said, it was supposed to be about letting things go, and Hank was going to embrace that.

* * * 

The campsite was only about an hour and a half drive from the house, but it felt like another world to Hank as they turned onto the dirt road and started down the winding path. The path would eventually lead to the spot by the lake that had been 'theirs' since Hank had been a kid and Dad had still been around to take them camping. That had been years ago now; with Dad gone and Nick too busy with his life being a responsible adult, the family camping trips had ended.

The bumpy dirt path was surrounded on both sides by thick forests, and it was as though they were entering their own private sanctuary, cut off from the rest of the world. Hank liked it that way; he didn't want anything to intrude on this time that he and Tommy had planned together. It belonged to them alone and nothing could change that. 

Their camping spot was so familiar to Hank even after all these years that it almost felt like coming home. Everything looked just as he had remembered it, from the calm blue-green water on the lake, to the fire pit that Dad had built with his own hands, to the two halves of the broken hammock hanging from the maple trees.

Hank remembered being fifteen and trying to surprise a sleeping Tommy by jumping into the hammock on top of him. But the force and weight had been too much for the worn-down hammock, and it had ripped, sending the both of them crashing to the ground. Five years later, and still the bits of the hammock stayed on the trees, a reminder of times gone by. 

"You gonna sit there daydreaming, or are you going to help with the tent?" asked Tommy. He'd already climbed out of the truck and was pulling the tent poles out of the bag. "Nah, you know what? I'll do it myself." He smirked and got to work. 

Leaning against the side of the truck, Hank watched Tommy struggle with the tent poles, trying to find which ends to fit together even though it was clear he really didn't know what he was doing. When they'd been camping in the past, Dad or Nick would be the one putting up the tents because Tommy never seemed to have the head for that kind of work. 

Hank decided he'd wait to see how far Tommy could get before he stepped in to help. While he let his brother try to figure it out, Hank opened up the cooler and took out one of the beers, cracking it open for himself. He wasn't really a big drinker, since he was underage and all, but since they were out in the woods alone, what did it really matter if he wasn't technically allowed to drink? Tommy had never had a problem letting Hank have a beer or two when he wanted one. 

Of course, now that he was looking ahead to going to police academy soon, Hank had to watch himself when it came to obeying the law. It wouldn't really look good if he wanted to be a cop and he couldn't even follow the rules that he was supposed to enforce. He didn't want to look bad. Thinking about police academy just gave Hank mixed feelings. He wanted to be a cop, of course – there was no doubt in his mind about that – but it was the matter of whether or not he'd be good at it that had him worried. And he would have to be gone for nearly two months to do all that training.

It was different than being away from home for college. He'd been trying to keep up with workouts at the gym while he was at school, but being out of football for the past couple years and being busy with classes made it harder for him to stay in shape. Glancing over at his brother, Hank wondered if he was even stronger than Tommy anymore. He doubted he would even beat Tommy in arm wrestling, not the way that he used to be able to.

"You want some help with that?" asked Hank after a while, when it was clear that Tommy was getting absolutely nowhere. 

The larger man glared at him. "Why don't you crack me open one of those beers, fuck face, and then you set up this fucking tent? I'll get us some firewood and get that campfire set up so we can get us something to eat, huh?" 

Hank grinned. He knew Tommy was going to give up eventually, and he preferred it this way. He was shit at starting fires but he could set up the tent with no problem. Still, it was kind of nice to see Tommy admit that he needed help. Hank was the only one he'd ever shown weakness to, and Hank knew that spoke to the connection the two of them had – something Hank didn't share with Nick or Jen, or really anybody except for Tommy. 

The two of them worked on their separate chores, and before long the tent was properly set up, and Tommy had a decent stack of dry firewood for them to use. He was also on his third beer, but Hank wasn't going to bother him about it. They were only here for the weekend, so it was only fair that Tommy got the time to enjoy himself. Hank didn't want to be a nag about that; Tommy got enough of that shit at home and he sure didn't need it from his little brother, too. 

"You want to swim?" asked Hank. It was warm enough now, and the water looked really inviting. It was nice being near a lake because it was easy enough to just wade in and keep cool. Sometimes they would set up the beach chairs at the edge of the water and get a little wet that way, too. 

Hank stripped out of his t-shirt and then his pants. He didn't have any swim trunks, but since it was just him and Tommy, it didn't really matter if he wore his boxer briefs into the water. He'd considered skinny-dipping, but some part of him was uncomfortable with that idea. Tommy had seen him naked before – they were brothers, after all – but something about this time felt different. Hank couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew there was a change there. 

"Maybe later," said Tommy. He had his back to Hank as he rummaged in the back of the truck for something.

Shrugging, Hank waded into the water, enjoying the feel of it lapping against his bare legs. It went up to about his waist and then there was a drop where it got much deeper. Hank could swim around but still see Tommy on the shore. 

His brother was watching him from the bank, one hand firmly holding a beer, the other hand running through his hair. 

For a moment Hank watched Tommy as well, noting the line of his older brother's body and the way he really filled out his t-shirt and jeans. How could anybody get so fucking big, anyway? The Howard boys had always been big – Dad was big, even Nick was fairly large, even if he ended up being the smallest of the three of them – but Tommy was more than just big. Tommy was huge, and he was strong and solid, and he was almost scary. 

It was strange to look at Tommy and think that this man, this big huge man with bulging biceps and tattoos, sometimes fucked other men. Sometimes Hank thought about that, imagined a naked Tommy pushing some man down on a mattress and sliding his cock inside and –

_Fuck,_ thought Hank. _Why the hell are you thinking about your brother having sex?_

He shook his head and took a breath before dipping back under water. He headed back to the shore and decided that maybe he needed something to eat. 

As he walked out of the water, dripping wet, Tommy watched him. 

"We only have one sleeping bag," said Tommy. "I think you forgot to bring one." He ran his hand over his hair again as he watched Hank shake off.

"Excuse me?" said Hank. "I forgot a sleeping bag? No, I remember packing mine. Why the fuck would I forget something like that? If anybody forgot anything, it's your fucking fault." He shook his head and ran his hand over his own wet hair, sending water droplets flying.

Tommy jumped back a little as some of them hit him, and Hank couldn't help smirking at that. 

"Well, we won't die if we don't have enough sleeping bags. We can just lay it out and use it like a mattress, right? It's not gonna be that cold anyway," said Hank, shrugging.

His brother nodded. "Yeah, guess you're right." But there was something in his eyes, something further back that Hank couldn't quite name. Maybe he didn't want to name it. Maybe he didn't want to think about what it would be like sleeping that close to Tommy, with nothing separating them. 

It was hard to think that things had changed between him and Tommy when he'd been away at school, but it was even harder not to notice. Hank wanted to ask his brother what was going on, but Tommy had really not been too good about telling Hank anything. So maybe he didn't want Hank to know. Maybe he was being private on purpose.

Or maybe if he got a little drunker he'd start to talk.

"You want to start up that campfire and maybe we can cook up some hot dogs?" asked Hank. "And maybe some more beer." He was still dripping a little from the lake, but he didn't want to towel off. Even if he wasn't as muscular as he'd been in high school, Hank was still proud of his body. As he looked down at his abs, at the light trail of hair on his stomach and his legs, he knew there was enough to be proud of right there. 

He hadn't had sex in almost a year, if only because he hadn't had a boyfriend in almost a year. And he had been so busy studying that he hadn't really wasted his time trying to figure out which guys were gay or actually up for fucking. Hank didn't really need to have sex all that often to be happy – he had his hand, after all, and that usually worked just fine for him most of the time – but sometimes it was nice to share a bed with somebody else, to have different hands roaming over his skin, to have somebody sliding their hard cock into his ass and making him groan with the pleasure of it. He loved the sound of another man's voice in his ear, telling him he looked sexy as fuck and he was so tight and –

_Fuck_ , was he hard? 

Hank shook out of his daze to find Tommy watching him with a strange look in his eye. Jesus, had he been daydreaming just like that? God, he needed to get a grip on himself if he was going to survive the weekend with his brother. 

"I said," said Tommy impatiently, "did you want a shot of the bourbon or just another beer?" 

Shrugging, Hank said, "I guess I'll stick with beer." He was never much of a bourbon fan, and it was really more of Tommy's drink of choice anyway. 

Though neither of them really said anything much as Tommy started up the fire and they began to cook the hot dogs, Hank found that he didn't mind it much. Why should he? It was nice being out here with his brother, and it wasn't as though they needed words between them to feel comfortable.

Hank found his mind wandering again as he thought about men, again. Maybe that was the nature of a twenty year old gay man, though – it was hard not to think about dudes, especially when he had some beer in him and there wasn't anything else on his mind. It was hard to find a good guy at college, if only because there weren't a lot of men that Hank was attracted to who also turned out to be gay. And it was even harder to find guys that he was attracted to that were gay and were also into him. He wasn't twinky enough for the buff dudes that he liked, and none of the twinky guys that were into him were really enough for him either. He wanted somebody big, with a body he could hold onto without fear that he might snap some dude in half. 

It was a vicious cycle some days, and maybe that was why Hank had been less than satisfied on the dating front. Too many times he'd settled for men that weren't his type just so he could get a little action, and now that he'd started to be a little pickier, he didn't find what he wanted. 

"Hey Tommy?" said Hank finally, disturbing the silence that had grown between them. 

His brother downed the shot of bourbon he'd just poured and then blinked at Hank. "What?"

"How do you find guys to fuck? I mean, maybe it's easier for you but like, how do you find guys?" He was repeating himself, and Hank realized that he was a little flustered. Why the fuck was he so flustered over this? It was just Tommy he was talking to; it wasn't like this was some sort of big deal, right? He could talk to his brother about this stuff.

Tommy shrugged and took a swig straight from the bourbon bottle.

Well, Hank was definitely sure he wasn't going to be having any bourbon now. That was so unsanitary, and his wince was involuntary. Even if maybe he did like the look of mouth on the mouth of the bottle, the way his brother's lips wrapped around it making him think of Tommy's lips wrapped around a nice thick cock –

_Jesus, Hank, get a fucking grip on yourself._

"Usually they find me," Tommy said with a wink. "It ain't that hard. A guy looks at you the right way and you know he's down for it, so you just maybe give him the look back, or you can even just ask." He shrugged. Then he licked his lips. "Why? You been having trouble on that front, little brother?" 

"Well." Hank didn't know how to respond to that. God, did he sound desperate now? "I've been kind of busy with school and all, you know, and with this police academy thing. I just haven't really been looking, and maybe I'm a little picky and maybe –"

"Whoa, dude," said Tommy, holding up his hand. "Calm down, buddy. I bet the reason you haven't gotten fucked in a while is because you are too goddamn uptight. Know what I mean?" Before Hank could argue that point, Tommy said, "Why don't you have another beer and try not to think so fucking hard, okay?" He put the bottle down on the ground and stood up, somewhat unsteadily, before walking over to the cooler. 

"I don't need another beer," said Hank, somewhat weakly. Maybe he didn't need the beer but he sure as hell wanted it. Because there was no way he was going to have this conversation with his brother while he was sober. He needed that buzz – or more than that buzz. He wanted it all. 

Thankfully, Tommy ignored his weak protest and grabbed not one but two beers from the cooler, lifting up the hem of his t-shirt to wipe off the excess moisture and twist the top off the first beer. 

"I can open my own beer," said Hank. "I'm not twelve." He rolled his eyes as Tommy handed it to him, but truth was that he didn't really care. Maybe he was just looking for some way to change the subject because fuck if he knew how he'd even gotten onto the topic of sex in the first place. Couldn't he keep it in his goddamn pants?

But he hadn't gotten laid in forever and yeah it was on his mind all the goddamn time. And why the fuck shouldn't it be? He was young, he was virile, and he wanted to have sex, Goddammit.

"Christ, Hank, you think any harder and your head might explode." Tommy was sitting back down again, once again swigging directly out of the bourbon bottle. He was trying to stare at Hank, but his eyes were starting to lose their focus.

Hank wondered how drunk his brother was. Tommy had always been pretty good about handling his liquor, though he did tend to drink more than he used to. It was a little worrisome, but on the other hand, Hank really had no goddamn idea what normal drinking even looked like. And Tommy was a big guy; big men could hold a lot more alcohol than smaller ones could. 

"Look, I got a lot of stuff to think about, okay?" said Hank. "I mean, I haven't even had sex in like a year." Immediately after he'd said that, he felt stupid for even speaking. Why did Tommy need to know the details? What did Tommy care about how often Hank had sex? What did it matter to him?

Tommy choked back a laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "A year? Jesus, Hank, how do you fucking stand it?" Then he licked his lips. "You at least been, uh, I mean," and he made a very familiar hand motion. 

"Duh," replied Hank, and took a good long drink from the beer before he even looked at Tommy's face. "I'm only human, after all." He couldn't imagine not even touching himself, but it wasn't the same thing at all. "But I mean, maybe I'm just picky. I want a guy that I can have sex with and still want to be around and talk to during the day, you know? Because a lot of these guys that just want a quick fuck, well they ain't much for conversation. It's like, they'll stick their dick in me and then if I want to talk about the news, they all of a sudden don't know a goddamn thing. It's so annoying." He felt his face heat up. "Oh god, I just said that out loud, didn't I? Maybe I need to stop drinking." He covered his face with his extra hand, feeling like such a fucking idiot.

He heard his brother laugh, but was too afraid to uncover his eyes to look. "Oh please, you think any of this is news to me, Hank? As soon as I knew you were gay, I figured you for a bottom. Ain't a surprise to me. Even if it was, who the hell cares? You're allowed to like what you like." 

And this time Hank did uncover his eyes. Tommy was watching him with curious amusement, but nothing more intense than that. "Well, just, I mean you don't think it's weird to be talking about this stuff? I don't want to make things weird for you."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Fuck's sake, Hank, don't apologize for talking to me about this. Who else are you going to tell? And I'm your big brother, after all, ain't I? I gotta make sure you're doing okay, and I'm supposed to give you advice on this." He raised his bourbon bottle. "What else are big brothers good for, if not that?" 

Licking his lips, Hank was silent. He didn't know how to answer that, and at any rate, the alcohol was starting to hit him. He felt his head begin to swim and his eyelids began to get heavy, even if it was still a bit too early to go to sleep just yet. 

Tommy scooted his chair closer and put his hand on Hank's arm. "Look, buddy, you're my brother and I care about you more than a lot of the other assholes in the world – even some of the assholes in our family, to be honest. So, I want to make sure you're doing okay in life and in everything. So don't be afraid to fucking talk to me about this shit. That's what I'm here for." 

For a long moment, they were silent. Hank could not think of a single thing to say, so he just continued to drink his beer and sink further into drunkenness. He found that he didn't care, though. The more he drank, the less he had to think about all the things that were on his mind. How could he enjoy his fucking weekend if he was too busy worrying about everything, anyway?

The moment stretched into an even longer silence, and after a long time of the two of them just sitting there, Tommy levered himself up from his chair and stumbled into the tent to go to sleep. Hank watched him go, but could not motivate himself to get up just yet. Instead, he sat and continued to watch the campfire, enjoying the flickering colors of the flame and how mesmerizing they could be.

When Hank finally got up to put out the fire, he didn't know how much time had passed, but he noticed that it had reached full dark. Looking up, he was in awe at the twinkling stars against the dark sky. This sight was not anything really new to him, but for some reason it felt different. Awesome, in every sense of the word, leaving Hank filled with genuine awe at the beauty of it.

It was only when Hank yawned hugely that he remembered what he had been intending to do. Rubbing his hand over his face, Hank stretched himself and yawned again. It was kind of nice to be able to go to bed when he felt tired, and not just whenever the clock told him it was bedtime. 

After double-checking that there were no glowing embers left in the fire pit, Hank stretched again and walked over to the tent. He opened the tent flap to find his brother fast asleep already. 

Tommy was curled up as small as a man his size could go, his knees tucked up against his chest and his fists curled under his chin. He was so fucking cute, but Hank would never tell him that out loud – not unless he wanted to get punched squarely in the face. Then again, he wondered how Tommy really would react to Hank saying that. Maybe he wouldn't take it as badly as Hank thought he would. 

Though his brother had fallen asleep in only his skimpy plaid boxers, Hank didn't feel comfortable sleeping nearly nude. There would be next to nothing separating the two of them, and he didn't want to make things even more awkward by having his own body barely covered up. He changed into a pair of sweatpants before he tried to make himself comfortable on top of the sleeping bag. 

He could smell Tommy right there next to him, the raw masculine scent of his sweaty body. How was he supposed to concentrate on going to sleep with that total threatening awareness of Tommy's body filling up his thoughts? Knowing that if he rolled over in his sleep, he could knock into his brother, or accidentally hit him in the face, or any number of other things.

He focused on the right way to breathe, taking his time with each inhale and exhale as he felt his body slowly give way to the sleep he knew he needed.

* * * 

With Jason Varitek – the Red Sox catcher that Hank maybe kind of sort of had a hard-on for – lying across from him in only a pair of boxers, Hank knew that he had to be dreaming, but he didn't care. Why should he care? The dude across from him was hot, he was mostly naked, and Hank really wanted to touch him. Well, actually, Hank wanted to do a lot more than just touching, but he figured he'd start off with the easy stuff.

He reached out and put his hand on the other man's chest, surprised to feel the steady heartbeat there. Already this felt more realistic than most of his other dreams had ever been. 

Tek was watching him silently, his eyes fixed on Hank. The other man was lying on his back with his head turned toward Hank. His tongue poked out to lick his lips, and Hank watched the motion, feeling his own body stir in response. God, Varitek was probably the hottest guy on the Sox roster and Hank was having a dream about him! He could barely contain himself.

Hank scooted himself closer and slid his hand further down the other man's chest. He could feel the muscles moving under his touch, could feel the way Tek inhaled and reacted, as though he hadn't been expecting the contact or the slow movement downward. He stopped his hand at the trail of hair that dipped into those boxers. For a moment, he just watched the rise and fall of that furry chest. 

After a long moment, Hank brought his eyes up to look into Varitek's face – only it wasn't the catcher's face he saw anymore. Instead, he was looking at Tommy, and Tommy was watching him right back with a heated look in his eyes.

"It's okay," said Tommy in a sort of scratchy, early-morning, haven't-had-coffee voice. He closed his hand over Hank's, and it felt so warm and real that Hank didn't even know anymore if this was part of his dream, or if he was awake.

There came a long moment between them as they both just stared. Hank didn't know how to react; what part of his mind was telling him that he wanted to touch Tommy this way? That he wanted Tommy the same way he wanted Jason fucking Varitek? 

Then Hank was moving even closer, sliding up so his body was flush against Tommy's.

His brother rolled over so that they were facing each other, and then he reached his hand out to cup Hank's face. He licked his lips, watching Hank carefully. Then he moved closer and bent his mouth to meet Hank's, brushing a soft, hesitant kiss across his brother's mouth before he backed up.

The air was thick with tension as they looked at each other. Hank was starting to doubt that this was a dream. His mouth still tingled with the feeling of the kiss. His heart pounded in his chest. And his cock stirred; he enjoyed it. If this was real, then what the hell was going on between them?

"Stop thinking," said Tommy. "Anything that happens now is between you and me. You and me and nobody else. We ain't even gotta talk about this once we leave this tent." He licked his lips again. Tommy reached forward with his free hand and brushed at the bulge in Hank's sweatpants. "Tell me if you want me to stop." He stopped, watching Hank for any hesitation. 

He had to say no, now. He had to stop before Tommy did what he wanted to do. He didn't want to like the kiss, he didn't want to like the feel of Tommy's hand on his cock, he didn't want to like the fact that his brother was offering to get him off. 

But the truth was – he did. 

He wanted it, and he couldn't say no. He arched his body closer and let Tommy brush his palm against Hank's half-hard cock through his sweatpants. It felt so good; how could he say no? Didn't he trust Tommy? And how was this any different than a couple of friends jacking off together? The only difference was that it was his brother, and that Tommy was so good with his hands. 

Hank moaned a little and tilted his head up for another kiss, which Tommy gave him. What he really wanted was that hand inside his pants, stroking the skin of Hank's cock with his strong hands. He wanted to know how that felt, and he wanted to know how it would feel to have Tommy's dick in his hands, to see the face his brother would make when he came. 

When just the hand wasn't enough, Hank rolled himself over on top of his brother, bending down for another kiss – this one wet and heated and needy and he rubbed himself against Tommy's body frantically. Tommy's hands were on Hank's ass, holding him tight and urging him toward orgasm. 

And he came sooner than he would have liked, stars clouding his vision as he felt the wetness inside his pants. For a moment he could do nothing but catch his breath as his senses slowly returned. 

Before he could say anything to Tommy, his brother was resting a hand on Hank's lower back. "Don't worry about it," he said gently. "We don't have to say anything, we don't have to talk about this, we don't have to do a goddamn thing. Except maybe change your pants." He winked.

His light hearted attitude calmed Hank down from what might have been a panic attack of sorts, at the fact that he'd just rubbed himself all over Tommy like a horny dog. And he'd come in his pants like he was fifteen or something!

"I'm sor-" he began, but Tommy put his hand over Hank's mouth, stopping him.

"Don't. You ain't got nothing to be sorry for. Fuck's sake, Hank. If you haven't had sex in a year, you're bound to be horny. And when you need to get off, you need to get off. And it's okay, all right?" He rubbed his hand in comforting circles on Hank's back. "You're okay."

Tommy's hand was soothing and it was hard for Hank to think anymore with that gentle motion. All he could think about was the aftermath of his orgasm, and it felt good to just relax in that moment. He'd have to change his pants soon enough, but right now he was just going to breathe and rest his head against Tommy's chest. 

He relaxed with the knowledge that they didn't have to talk about it if he didn't want to, and he knew that Tommy would always be willing to keep that secret for him. That was the kind of brother Tommy was for him.


End file.
